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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233864">2 Corinthians 11:3</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28'>gemini28</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Happy Tree Friends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Blasphemy, Canon-Typical Violence, Horror, M/M, Slow Burn, flippy has more accurate mental health</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:42:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the only priest in Happy Tree Town, Flippy is tasked in dealing with a lot of nonsense. Most of it is harmless- pranks and the like. So being called in to help settle an issue with Cuddles and his friends seems like it won't be any different. But it is, in a way that is both painfully familiar and terrifyingly new to Flippy. </p>
<p>Haunted by a past he can't escape and a present that threatens to be a rope around his throat, Flippy tries to put his life back in balance before his mind, or worse, is destroyed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flippy/Fliqpy (Happy Tree Friends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There aren’t that many places of worship in Happy Tree Town. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason not many people seem interested in spending time in places that often have so many open flames and billowing fabric. But there’s one church that’s supposedly been in town since it was built, off of the main street. It doesn’t look very exciting at first glance, honestly. The white paint isn't as brilliant as it once was, the grass and plants surrounding it are all just a bit too overgrown, and close inspection shows more than one amateur patch job. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It has an air of respectability about it, but with a similar quiet despair as an old waterlogged bible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be expected that such a distinguished but old church would have a priest to match. Someone with years under their collar, well versed in scripture, and definitely someone who’s actually legally allowed to be called a priest. Instead, what the church has is a young man with a tired but kind expression, who strictly speaking is not a priest at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy never meant to become a man of the cloth. He hadn’t had any strong plans for what would happen after he left the army, but he’d figured he’d settle down. Do something quiet and enjoy himself. Well, he’s at least gotten the quiet part down pat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t even strictly a Christian. He’s more of a “Lapsed Catholic” who “doesn’t really believe in God”. Not that he let the church know about that going in, of course. There’s things even the lax standards of Happy Tree won’t allow. He doesn’t expect it’ll ever come up, however; he’s gotten good at lying and the folks who live in town are mostly looking for someone to listen to their worries rather than be a real spiritual guide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he keeps up appearances. Right now for instance he’s kneeling in front of the pulpit, hands clasped in front of him. To anyone looking on he’d appear to be praying, but he’s the only one who knows the truth: he’s thinking about what to have for dinner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s why he doesn’t immediately hear a voice behind him until what he thinks is the second or maybe third time he’s called out to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Father?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nearly jumps out of his skin but just barely manages to keep it together and make it look far more calm than he really is. He stands slowly and takes the time to turn and calm his beating heart. He really needs to be more aware of his surroundings when he’s alone like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giggles is standing by the pews, breathless and with a worried expression that immediately stops Flippy’s concerns about looking ridiculous. He doesn’t even correct her on calling him Father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Giggles?” He hurries over and she immediately throws her arms around him. He’s thrown off balance for a moment before regaining it and setting a hand on her back.  “Woah! What’s wrong!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Cuddles!” She says, and grips onto the front of his shirt. She’s got a somewhat wild look in her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to be drunk or anything. Just upset. “He’s in trouble!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What happened?” Cuddles isn’t someone who comes by all that often, but the times Flippy has met him he’s been perfectly nice. The idea of him being in trouble is certainly a worrying one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He- It’s-!” Giggles hiccups and wipes at her eyes. Flippy waits patiently, because he assumes if she’s come to a priest instead of the police it’s probably not something that needs to be fixed right this instant. “He’s been possessed!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here’s what he’s able to gather on their way to Giggles’ house: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her, Cuddles, and Toothy were playing around with a Ouija board when they contacted something. They thought it was all just each other playing tricks on the rest of them, so they were rude and whatever it was got angry enough to break free of the board and possess Cuddles. Now he’s been acting overly violent and scary, and Giggles ran to the church as fast as she could to find Flippy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it’s. Well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a pretty story, to be sure. It’s just...He doesn’t believe it. Oh, he for sure believes that these dumb kids went and played with a Ouija board and scared themselves stupid. And he wouldn’t be surprised if Cuddles was playing a game he wasn’t expecting to be called out on. But there’s absolutely no way he believes it’s a real...ghost, or demon, or whatever. Because, you know, those don’t exist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he’s said that! Not...out loud! It would be rude to shoot down someone’s fear, especially when something could be seriously wrong. He doesn’t want Giggles to get mad at him when he still needs to help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toothy is outside the house when they finally arrive, which is a surprise. He would have thought that Cuddles’ best friend would stay with him so they could get their stories straight. Maybe he’s here to give Cuddles a heads up when Flippy arrives? Though, when he gets closer and looks at the honest fear on Toothy’s face...His opinion changes a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here’s the thing. Flippy is not unfamiliar with psychosis. He is perhaps too familiar with it, actually, and that’s why it occurs to him that there might be a third option to Cuddles’ problem. If it isn’t demons, and may not be a prank, then there’s a very real chance Cuddles is having mental trouble. Which brings up a different problem if that’s the case, because how can he in good conscience pretend to save someone when they’re having a psychotic break? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hrm. He’s going to have to play this by ear it seems. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Father!” Toothy stands up quickly and scrubs at his face, but not quick enough to hide either the tear tracks or the black eye. Worrying. “Thank god. He got worse!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no.” Giggles says and tugs at Flippy’s arm which she hasn’t let go of since leaving the church. “Please, you can help him right? Please say you can I can’t see him like this!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” He pauses, then straightens. “I’ll do my very best. Now listen. I’m going to go in by myself, see if I can’t talk Cuddles down. I don’t want you two to get hurt in the middle of things, so don’t come in unless you hear a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of shouting, got it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giggles and Toothy look uncertain for a moment before nodding. Sometimes Flippy is actually glad that he went through the army, because people listen to him when he thinks to put on his Official Voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes into the house, clutching his coat closer to him automatically as the temperature drops a bit. It makes sense, since he’s just come from rushing around outside. The house is quiet, quieter than he expected it to be. He honestly thought that Cuddles would have come rushing out immediately, hamming it up. It’s enough to make him worry but he keeps walking, certain that an explanation will crop up before long. And to his credit, it does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks into the living room and immediately stops, his eyes going wide. Cuddles is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, ropes binding his arms and legs in such a way that he’s not going anywhere on his own any time soon. They actually look a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>tight which strikes him as a bit much for a mere prank. Couple that with Toothy’s injury...ugh. He is not liking where this is going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cuddles?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy watches as Cuddles jolts a bit at hearing his voice. He raises his head and Flippy takes an instinctive step back as soon as their eyes meet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s something wrong about him. Flippy can’t put his finger on what, exactly, it is, but if he had to describe it… The space around him doesn’t seem to move quite right. Which, in this town, isn’t actually all that surprising, but it does make it a bit more troublesome to deal with. Cuddles’ actual expression seems slightly confused and vacant. Concerning.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cuddles, are you feeling okay? Can you hear me?” He speaks softly, trying to keep his voice unthreatening. He knows from experience that when someone’s panicking the last thing they want is to hear anything that’ll aggravate it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Father?” Cuddles says after a moment, and that’s sort of weird. He’s made it a running gag to call him everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. He must be really distressed. “Wait..Wait a second. Is this some kind of joke?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy freezes. Instead of Cuddles’ bright and high voice, he’s speaking in a pitch so low he doesn’t even sound like himself. Maybe he’d get close if he smoked and drank for twenty years while being the frontman for a screamo band. But there’s no way he’d manage it now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tsch. They couldn’t even be bothered to send an actual priest?” Cuddles says, and Flippy stares. He’s not wrong, but Cuddles has never bothered to make that distinction before. “Or even a believer? The church has really gone downhill.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he shouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that- No, wait. Hold on, Flippy. Don’t let yourself get swept up by him. It’s looking more and more like this is a genuine break of some sort, so he should be the one to keep his wits about him. Just because Cuddles is saying things that are true doesn’t mean he somehow knows they’re true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what you mean.” He says. “But I’m here to help you. Can you tell me what’s going on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, is that how we’re gonna play it? Okay,” Cuddles says. “Then how about you start by untying me? That pink gal really knows how to tie a knot, but it’s digging into my skin something awful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy nods and takes all of one step forward before the entire room seems to tilt to the side. Not in the normal “something is wrong and I’m about to pass out” way, but instead in a “something is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong” way. And when he takes a step back and the hallucination immediately stops, he frowns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Cuddles.” He says, as mildly as he possibly can. “There’s no chance you and your friends were doing drugs, is there? Maybe, ah, hallucinogens?” Because he cannot think of anything that would make sense other than something lingering in this house fucking with his perception. Not that dramatically, at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Oh, no, not at all. Wow, you must think real highly of this kid, huh “father”?” Cuddles laughs like knives on bone. “Are you such a nonbeliever that you can’t even accept what’s happening in front of you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen,” Flippy says, not bothering to regulate his tone. He can only handle so much, dammit. “I only believe in what I can see for certain. And so far, all I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>is a young man acting like an idiot and scaring his friends. So stop putting on the voice and talk to me, or I can leave you to cool your head a bit more.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cuddles stares at him, mouth agape. He looks bewildered as if he didn’t actually expect Flippy to call him out on his bullshit. And, well, it’s true that he didn’t intend to. But he stands his ground and keeps eye contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Heh. You’re actually pretty interesting. I like you.” Cuddles says. “I think I’ll spend a bit of time with you, instead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy is just about to ask what he means by that, when Cuddles goes stock still and his eyes go black. Before he can properly react to that there’s a sound like air rushing past him. He blinks and when he opens his eyes he’s holding rope in his hands and Cuddles is unconscious on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quick check shows that he’s fine physically, so at least Flippy can take solace in the fact that he didn’t hurt him during his blackout. But that was so strange...He hasn’t hallucinated like that in a while, and he can’t think of anything that would have caused him to lose time like that. He’s going to have to take this up with his psychiatrist later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmhm...Flippy?” Cuddles slowly sits up and rubs at his eyes, looking utterly exhausted. Flippy turns to him, frowning a bit as he wraps the rope up. Cuddles’ voice is back to normal now. “What…What happened? Where’s-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was a pretty dangerous thing you did, you know.” He says, already in scolding mode. Cuddles immediately wilts. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“B- Hff.” He sounds a bit sulky which...Yeah, that tracks. Cuddles loves to go against any rules possible, but even he can’t argue that this was dangerous. Even if Flippy still isn’t sure what “this” was. “But you took care of things, right!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think I’m going to be around all the time? Come on, Cuddles.” He says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Sorry, Flippy.” He says, and sounds it. “But, um..thank you. It was really scary.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. It wasn’t any problem. Just, promise me one thing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-Sure! Of course!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do it again.” He says, and Cuddles nods eagerly. There. Whatever happened will at least not happen again...probably. “Oh, and try to get to the doctor at some point today. You might be feeling better now, but who knows what kind of reaction you’ll be having later on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like my dad.” He whines, but at least doesn’t seem too put off by the idea. Good. Flippy doesn’t want to have to be the one to strongarm anyone into getting checked out, because god only knows he’s not too good at that himself… “Uh, by the way, are you okay? That...what you did, that must have been really hard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? Well, not really.” Because he’s so used to strange actions. But now that he thinks of it, he does feel a bit tired...And maybe a bit stressed, since his teeth don’t seem to be sitting quite right in his jaw. Nothing a few sleeping pills can’t fix, he’s sure. “I’m fine. Thanks for worrying. Now I’m gonna go let the other two back in, and it’ll be up to you to take care of yourself, got it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giggles and Toothy are very easy to convince to take care of Cuddles no matter what the bunny says otherwise, and with that Flippy is finally free to head back to the church. He’s exhausted. He’s still not entirely sure what happened. But...If Cuddles is okay, he supposes that’s good enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes inside the little apartment attached to the church after locking up, and immediately goes about his evening routine. He doesn’t think any more about the strange feelings of alienation in his very bones. He doesn’t pay any attention to the soft whispers that seem to be following him around the house. And he absolutely misses the warped reflection in one of the mirrors in his hallway. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flippy has a bit of trouble adjusting.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day he wakes up to his room trashed. This is not the first time this has happened, though he’d thought he’d long since grown out of it. And the clawmarks are a new, worrying development. But his hands seem fine when he studies them so at the very </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t injure himself doing...whatever it was he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaves his room like it is and goes to wash up. It’s not like anyone else is going to see it in disarray, and he’s got no interest in wasting half a morning cleaning it up when it may just happen again tonight. He splashes warm water on his face, ruffles his fur with a towel until it’s dry and fluffy, and looks into the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone else is looking back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This does not surprise him as much as it may have when he was a younger man. He takes in his reflection: mostly him, but with more unkempt fur, surprisingly sharp teeth, and wild yellow eyes. Flippy blinks carefully until the hallucination slides from his vision like water droplets down the mirror, and sighs. That tears it, then. He’s going to have to talk to his doctor and get one of his dosages adjusted, again. And here he’d thought he’d finally found the perfect cocktail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Monday which means he doesn’t have to do anything specific this morning which, Thank God because after last night he’s not sure he’d be able to scold anyone about being responsible. He gets dressed, shoves a despairingly burnt piece of toast into his mouth, and begins his daily chores. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The church is so small that there’s really no point in hiring anyone else to help him except for the bare necessities, and he’s the only one who lives here. So it falls to him to do basic daily cleaning and tidying up. Even if barely anyone comes in he refuses to let a place that people will see day to day fall into disrepair. He picks up the broom from his kitchen and walks into the main church. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost soothing, really, to clean. He doesn’t have to focus on anything while he works, and the church is so quiet he can get lost in his thoughts properly. For instance, about yesterday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still doesn’t know quite what to make of it all. It was a lot like drugs or hallucinations, but something about that explanation doesn’t sit well with him. He’s been wondering if it was something to do with the town’s curse, but that also doesn’t seem exactly right. Most of the strangeness that happens doesn’t have a personality beyond one it steals from a resident. But whatever that was, it had a personality that he’s never seen before. Cruel and sneering and unrelenting, and very much unlike anyone he’s met in town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses in wiping down one of the windows. If Cuddles comes into the church again any time soon, he’s going to have to talk to him about it. Flippy isn’t willing to believe in ghosts all of a sudden, but he isn’t the type to deny facts when they’re right in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he turns away from the window, he’s surprised to see someone sitting in the pews. He hadn’t heard anyone walk in. It’s a bit embarrassing to be caught cleaning but it’s early enough in the morning that he should be allowed to be as domestic as he likes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello! Sorry, I didn’t see you there earlier.” He says as he walks over. The person doesn’t respond, their head bowed and hands clasped in front of them. He doesn’t recognize them but then, he doesn’t recognize everyone in town either. “Is there something I can help you with?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t react for a moment, and he thinks they might not have heard him. Then they raise their head up towards him and he falls backwards, hitting the floor of the church with a solid thud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look like their face has been ripped off in strips, their eyes sockets twin gashes in their skull. They don’t have a mouth so much as a furious slash through their bleeding muscle and sinew, and as he sits there frozen the gaping wound opens up and splits the creature’s face. It might not have eyes but he can feel the full force of its focus entirely on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in a viscous, wild way that manages to sound accusatory. Flippy flinches, covers his ears, and closes his eyes. After a moment, the sound trails off and when he glances up again the creature is gone, the ringing in his ears the only thing to suggest it had ever been there at all. He stares at the empty pew, his pulse now the loudest thing in the church. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three hours later he’s still rattled, and the heavily-caffeinated coffee he’s drinking at the diner isn’t actually much help at all. But he called up Cuddles immediately after that and has spent the time between that and now trying desperately to calm down. And, failing that, decided to drink enough that he’d be jittery for a different reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flippy!” Cuddles’ voice rings out in the relative quiet of the diner, and Flippy is honestly glad to hear him. He’s been too wrapped up in his thoughts. “Oh wow, you look awful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Thanks.” He can’t keep the dryness out of his tone. Cuddles either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and sits down across from him. He’s looking a lot better than yesterday, but Flippy supposes the young bounce back quickly. “Are you doing well? I was surprised by how energetic you were when I asked you to come out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well!” Cuddles shrugs, grinning broadly. “...Yeah, I mean, it was scary but I don’t remember much after the planchette flew off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hm. That’s a new part of the story. Not that he’d been listening too closely to Giggles’ talk of ouija, he admits. He’d still been worried about it being mental. Now...He’s not so sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see. Can you tell me what happened beforehand?” He says, watching Cuddles carefully as Petunia walks up and sets down what looks like a sugar overload. She knows everyone’s regular orders so it’s not that he doubts her judgement, but wow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Cuddles asks, and it doesn’t sound defensive. Just curious. “Oh no, did something happen? Or- Are we in trouble?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No, nothing like that. But I do have to make a report to my superiors.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue. He’s been thinking up this excuse all morning. The only superior he has is Lumpy, and he hasn’t so much as checked in for the past five years. “But you won’t be shamed or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Okay, good. ‘Cause my mom </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>find out, and I am so not about that life.” Cuddles crosses his eyes as he attempts to lick some of the whipped cream off his nose, and in that moment Flippy finds himself unbearably fond. He’s a cute guy, even if he’s a bit too energetic for him usually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders what would happen if he broke his cup across his pretty face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy pauses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Closes his eyes for a moment and lets that thought roll over him. Lets it exist, and then breathes out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flippy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm. Sorry, I was thinking. Can we start from the beginning?” He smiles at him warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sure! Um, let’s see...Last week we went out and bought a ouija board from a thrift store. There really wasn’t anything weird about it, it was just a normal ooky spooky kid’s game!” Cuddles huffs. “We were gonna have a sleepover yesterday, so we all hung out earlier, and Giggles suggested we play around with the board. None of us really believed in that stuff, like, seriously, so we thought it’d be a good warm up for watching horror later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We turned off the lights, lit some candles for effect, and started asking the board questions. We weren’t expecting much, I mean- The board was made of really cheap plastic and the planchette was cracked and fixed with tape. It was supposed to be a game, but…” He trails off and fiddles with his cup, uncertainty on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” Flippy says encouragingly. He has to be patient, even though he wants to shake Cuddles to be quicker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um..Something did answer. We didn’t think it was real at first! I thought it was Toothy, and he thought it was me. Him and Gigs both did, actually…” He pouts a little at that. “But then we all took our hands off and it kept moving. And, like, you know how weird this town is! We were excited! It didn’t seem like there was an easy way for it to kill us with just a stupid fake board. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, um. When it asked if we would be nice enough to let it hang around, I...stupidly said yes. Like, embarrassingly fast. And after that I can’t remember anything until after you freed me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I see.” Flippy tries not to sound like he’s judging him, but, well. “And, did this...entity say anything about itself? Or was there perhaps anything that stood out to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrm...Uhhh...Oh! It said that it couldn’t tell us its name, but that we could call it Cain.” He rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that ridiculous? I think it was the fact that it was such a dramatic name that I said yes, I mean...You’ve gotta be really lonely to come up with something so embarrassing, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy has to set down his cup because the urge to throw it at Cuddles was really overwhelming just now. Not his feelings, for sure, but just as real. It’s getting on his nerves, to be honest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Cuddles, you’ve been a great help. I’m sure I’ll be able to write up my report with no issues.” He gives him a smile and stands up a little shakily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, okay! No problem! And, um, if that weird bible nerd gives you any trouble, just-” He’s not even able to finish his sentence before the light fixture above their table creaks and the chain holding it up snaps. Cuddles’ head is crushed in by it, splattering the table and Flippy in gore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was- Oh no! Father!” Petunia pokes her head out of the kitchen and gasps a little. Then she’s rushing over, with a wet cloth already in hand. “Are you alright? Oh, poor Cuddles…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes I’m fine. Thankfully.” He takes the cloth with a nod and sighs as he starts wiping off the worst of the blood. He can feel panic starting to creep up his spine at the sight of so much gore, and turns away from the table to take a few deep breaths. No, no, that was actually a terrible idea, he should have stepped outside first. The smell of blood is too thick, too pungent, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Father…? Are you okay?” Petunia asks, her voice soft. Flippy turns to answer her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he blacks out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he comes back to himself, he’s back at the church. This is slightly disconcerting, but not all that worrisome. What is concerning, however, is the fact that he seems to be covered in even more blood than he remembers and he aches a bit as if he’d done something strenuous. That’s not normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes to wash his hands before picking up his phone and trying to call Petunia to apologize for...whatever he’d done, but she doesn’t pick up. Which is, again, not normal. It wasn’t busy when he was at the diner and even when it’s a rush Petunia at least personally answers to put you on hold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is officially too many unexplained events for him to dismiss as within normal weirdness. And it’s not even the type of weirdness that can be waved away as a concerning but expected part of a breakdown. Violence is not part of what happens when his mental health gets worse, and it never has been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s learned that the most impossible thing can still happen, thanks to his time in this town. And unfortunately, it’s looking more and more likely that whatever happened yesterday, it wasn’t just some innocent ghost looking for a little trouble. Whatever it was, it meant business, and has the power to make that everyone else’s problem. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it’s attached itself to Flippy. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the chapter summary might as well be the summary for all future chapters, about wildly different things</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flippy has a talk and promptly sticks his foot into his mouth, to no one's surprise.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>What Flippy knows about possession is mostly from pop culture. The beloved family member suddenly starts acting strange, there are unexplainable medical mysteries that happen with them, mysterious accidents, the works. You could always tell who was possessed by their bloodshot eyes, so when Flippy looks into his mirror and doesn’t see anything different he’s almost disappointed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again it seems that whatever’s taken root in him isn’t interested in physical changes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As hard as he tries, he can’t remember what exactly happened at the diner. There’s just a black box where his memories would be, which is...not actually all that unusual for him. He’s lost time a lot in his life. Between his various traumatic brain injuries and disorders and medication he’s got more memory holes than not. But this is different. This feels wrong, in a way he can’t fully articulate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s the issue of what to actually fucking do. Because, look, he knows all the details about what to do for other people, but none of the horror movies have prepared him for a priest being the one to be possessed. At least, none in which they don’t immediately die. But he wants to keep that as an absolute last resort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and rubs at his face, turning away from the mirror finally. Well, maybe after a good night’s sleep he can- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Oh! That’s a great idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles to himself and heads to his bedroom, which despite his cleaning efforts from this morning is still a mess. He’s going to have to get it fixed at some point, because the church is hard enough to live in without giant gouges in the damn walls. But he’s certain that he’ll just be racking up costs if he doesn’t take care of the possession beforehand, since something tells him that this...thing in him will take extreme pleasure in ruining his things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets in bed and lays down, closing his eyes. Back when he was younger, he’d once tried meditation. It went horribly, as it turns out that meditation and trauma not only don’t go hand in hand but they actively try to murder each other. But as he got further through his therapy it turned into something he could count on to help him calm down pretty consistently. And now he can fall asleep with just a bit of meditating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea is that if it’s something that’s taking over his mind, then the easiest way to approach it would be to go into his mind. He has full control over his dreams and thoughts, so he’ll have the upper hand. Whether this is a spirit or a demon or something else, he’s confident that it would take a lot longer than a single day for it to be able to control his mind as well as he does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy is able to fall asleep relatively easy, but what he doesn’t expect is to wake up almost immediately. Or. He thinks he’s awake. He’s still in his room, on his bed. He looks up and- Oh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are three doors in his room, where normally there would be one. Definitely sleeping, then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands cautiously, looking around. Besides the doors, there doesn’t seem to be anything different about his room. Even when having vivid dreams, Flippy was used to things being off about his surroundings. Things he didn’t actually own in real life being present, or everything being just wrong looking. But this is...unnervingly normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, except for the doors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re different styles. One looks like his regular bedroom door, one reminds him of the doors that were used where he was stationed in the army, and one looks like the bedroom door from his childhood room. So, it’s pretty obvious which one he’s going through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes open his bedroom door and sighs as the dream becomes a little more clearly dreamlike. The hallway that leads to the rest of the living area is dark, looking like it hasn’t been touched in years. The floor creaks under every step he takes, and he’s sure he can smell the coppery tone of blood. He’s a little insulted, honestly. Does the demon think this is how he keeps house? That’s so rude. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps into the living room and freezes. Sitting on his couch is- Well- It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But it is not him. He does not sit like that, his smile does not slice across his face, and above all his eyes are pretty fucking distinctly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>an eerie gold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposes it must be the demon trying to throw him off. What other reason could there be for him to be wearing his appearance like an ill-fitting suit? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So.” He says, breaking the suffocating silence by any means necessary. “I assume you’re, er, Cain?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon laughs, a sound like nails on a chalkboard overlaid with a skipping record. Flippy decides to make him laugh as little as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I am.” He sounds smug. “I’m glad you’re the honorable type to believe someone when they tell you their name. Unlike that bunny friend of yours.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Do you mean, do I believe that you’re one of the first sons of humans, who killed his brother and was cursed to walk the earth forever?” Flippy pauses. “No. I don’t. Do I believe your name is Cain? Yes. It’s not that rare of a name.” He smiles at the demon, who looks a little disgruntled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh. You’re one hell of a priest, talking to a demon so casually.” He leans back and smirks, confidence back as easily as that. “And one hell of a priest to have all this...baggage.” He gestures with a hand that is holding papers he previously was not. He flips through them, and Flippy catches sight of a few familiar papers. Various intake forms, what look like discharge papers, medication prescriptions. He probably shouldn’t be able to recognize anything, but he has to remind himself that he’s in a dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Many people who have difficult lives turn to faith.” He says, sounding like he’s telling a joke. “It isn’t unusual.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon smiles. It is not remotely sincere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, sure, you ain’t wrong. But man…” He flips through the papers. “Lotsa murders. Sure, you were in the army, I’m sure some of these were even warranted. And whoof, your psych evals-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, are you trying to make me feel...What, bad? Guilty?” Flippy crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “It won’t work. I’ve been doing therapy literally to feel less like shit about all that. You’re going to need to try harder than bringing up the past.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He immediately regrets saying that. He has had a horrible habit since he was a kid of snarking at people who are way more powerful than he is. It’s gotten him into a lot of trouble in his life but he thinks he just might have outdone himself this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the demon just smiles. This does not do anything to calm Flippy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>tough</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t you Father? Got a lot of life experience.” The demon relaxes against the couch, smirking. “That’s great. I like a bit of challenge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, no that’s not what I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy wakes up. He stares at the ceiling, confused as to why it looks unfamiliar before realizing it’s the living room. Great. So he sleepwalked in here. That’s not going to be super annoying or anything. He sits up, looking around, and it’s at least a relief that this room isn’t wrecked too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He makes his way back to his room, thinking. It’s true that his idea worked, but he didn’t exactly get anything helpful out of it. If anything, he made things worse for himself and made the demon in him more likely to cause problems. He groans, thinking about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t think it would be that annoying to be told that he’s a bad person. As if he doesn’t know that! And he wasn’t really telling the truth about being over it, but he doubts that the demon, “Cain” or whatever, will be able to do anything worse to him than he’s already done to himself when it comes to the past. But that just gives him a lot more options for the present. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits down at his desk and takes out a journal, before beginning to write. The details of the dream are starting to fade, and he doesn’t want to be at a disadvantage because he can’t remember. Though, even as he tries to forget, the scene of the demon using his face remains as clear as day. It was so wrong. Like one of those creepy dolls that people make to look like humans but are just left of being accurate, but not inaccurate enough to be funny. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hopes that the demon decides to choose some other way of showing himself. If Flippy has to constantly see his own face like that, he’s going to have  a bad time. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>these two are playing in entirely different genres and dont even realize the genre theyre REALLY in</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exorcism is a thing that can just be so intimate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s no time to lose. Now that the demon has made himself and his intentions (somewhat) clear, Flippy has to act. He doesn’t want to wait on anything- Not the permission to perform an exorcism from the church, not someone giving him a “second opinion”, nothing. If he waits he isn’t sure he’ll be able to stick to his plans and keep up his confidence. And God only knows what the demon is planning in the meantime. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The church doesn’t exactly go around explaining how to deal with exorcisms, at least not to new priests who barely pass muster. There’s plenty of information on the internet but Flippy isn’t exactly confident in it considering half of it talks about how demons aren’t real. And it seems like it’s more difficult to do an exorcism on yourself, but really...What choice does he have? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can just imagine it now. Oh, yeah, he’s doing good also he’s pretty sure he’s being possessed by a literal actual demon and not just the demons he’s had to shoulder before this. No, he doesn’t need to be sectioned, what are you talking about? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, yeah. No way is he going to tell anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a step back and stares at the altar in front of him. It’s late at night, so he’s already closed the church up. He’s spent the last half hour gathering up all of the most holy things he can think of- A few rosaries, more than a few bibles, the cross that sits in his room- and setting them up on the altar. There wasn’t any details about </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>to set things up that he could find, so it’s ended up looking like a kid threw everything together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It should be fine. It’s the intent that matters, right? Right. He’ll just ignore the fact that the last time he felt anywhere near God was when he was sixteen and he certainly hasn’t felt anything like that since. If God really cares, then He won’t mind that Flippy hasn’t been a perfect believer. It’ll be more important that there’s a demon in the Earthly plane, he’s sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, and begins to pray. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were specific prayers, specific rites according to his research. Some were more familiar to others. He ended up going with one that didn’t seem to need more people involved than just the priest: the prayer of St. Micheal. He doesn’t think that’s even a part of the denomination he’s ended up in, but that’s not really the most important thing right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What is important is the moment he starts praying the entire room feels like a lead weight pressing down on him from above. He gasps and for a moment the pressure lets up which just tells him he’s on the right track. He screws his eyes shut and continues with the prayer. It feels so...wrong. Not unlike his anxiety attacks, where his chest will constrict until he’s struggling to take in even one breath. He’s quickly brought to whispering the prayer, only able to bring in that much air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pressure seems to subside for a moment, and then he feels a presence behind him. He knows it isn’t real. No one is able to come in here without him knowing- opening the doors alone is always a huge noisy deal. It’s just something the demon is doing to break his concentration and get him to stop. He knows, deep inside, if he was less determined and stubborn it would probably work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That stubbornness doesn’t stop him from hearing footsteps. It doesn’t stop them from getting closer, the sharper steps against the marble floors muffling against the rug leading up to the altar. And it sure as fuck doesn’t stop him from feeling hands touching his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jumps, fumbling his words. He didn’t expect to actually feel anything. Then he takes in a deep breath. No, he’s not feeling it. The demon is just making his brain think he is. He continues, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to think about it. The hands move, one going to touch his throat and the other cupping his jaw tenderly, like a lover. He feels his fur stand on end, the touch too intimate and unwelcome to be comfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t going to be getting rid of me with that piss poor act, you know.” Ah. And there’s the demon. He sounds so smug it’s infuriating but Flippy keeps his eyes shut and his focus on the prayer. “Come on, Father. Why don’t you just give up? No one’s listening. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ignores him harder. This proves to be a mistake when the hands on him turn cruel, grabbing him roughly by the throat and yanking his head back. His eyes fly open and meet the demon’s sickly yellow eyes. His grin is more of a cruel sneer, lips raised enough to show off his unnaturally sharp teeth. Flippy’s pulse pounds in his ears, made all the more obvious by the fact that the demon doesn’t have one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re too stubborn for your own good, Flippy. You barely believe in yourself, let alone anything that can help you out here.” He laughs mirthlessly. “At least if you gave up I’d use your life to the fullest. Nothing like this pathetic bullshit you have going on now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy holds his gaze for a long moment before his eyes flick around the room and he closes them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Well, would death get rid of you?” He asks, voice low. The demon barks out a disbelieving laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh? Yeah, probably! But as if a pussy like you is willing to-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a long, low groan from above them and the demon lets go of Flippy so suddenly he falls backwards onto the floor. Lying on his back gives him a fantastic view of the chandelier, large and older than probably the church itself, and of that same chandelier coming undone from the ceiling and beginning to fall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fu-” Is the last thing Flippy hears before it all goes black. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Dying in Happy Tree is no longer strange. When he first died here, freshly discharged, it had been terrifying. It was an explosion at the gas station, and once he’d revived he’d been too frightened to leave his house for almost a month. Eventually he’d gotten more used to things, but the terror of dying that first time never really left him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes up in his bed that morning, he’s reminded of that feeling all over again. He sits up and clutches at his chest, the sensation of the shards of glass and twisted metal still in his skin. But there’s also a feeling of calm, which he hasn’t felt since he got possessed. He lets out a breath. He wasn’t entirely sure that dying would work in getting rid of the demon, but it seems like it was a gamble worth trying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands and stretches, going to open the blinds. It’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is warm but there’s a gentle breeze that cuts through any high temperatures. It’s made all the better by knowing he’s free of his immoral hitchhiker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flippy turns around and nearly jumps out the window at the sight of himself standing in the doorway to his bedroom. God </span>
  <em>
    <span>dammit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s genuinely, honestly about to lose himself to despair but something catches his attention before he can. Something’s different about the demon, and Flippy has the best view as the other man storms up to him and grabs him by the front of his shirt. The stupidest thought goes through his mind, that the demon feels strangely warm, before he’s shoved up against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He’s snarled at, and again it feels strange. Different to the other times he’s interacted with the demon. “You live in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>town?! Fucker! You couldn’t have lived in a normal goddamn place without an age old curse to be a pain in the ass??” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. That’s what it is. He seems far more solid- More real? Less intimidating. Flippy blinks owlishly at him, utterly bewildered by this sudden anger about the town. It’s also like, super weird that demons apparently know about the curse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you talking about? I thought you said that if I died it’d get rid of you.” He says. He feels a lot more energy than he’s had in the last couple of days, which immediately translates into snarking. “Well, I did.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! You did! And now our souls are irreversibly entwined because of this stupid town’s bullshit curse!” The demon shakes him hard and Flippy is too shocked to properly react at first. “I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>be stuck with you! I have a job to do, I can’t just stick around this horrible shitshow the entire time!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s looking at Flippy, obviously expecting him to say something, but Flippy’s brain is still reeling. How was he supposed to know something like that? How could he have possibly guessed that was even a thing?? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.” Is all he can manage. “So does that mean you’re stuck with me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it- Yes! Yes, you asshole!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it means you can’t bother anyone else, and since I can’t die permanently you can’t leave to cause havoc?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I don’t like where you’re going with this.” He says, and Flippy just grins brightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do! Now it seems you have no choice but to act properly around me, Mr. Cain.” Flippy laughs a little bit and grabs his wrist, pulling him in closer. He wonders if it’s just the rush of the reset, but he feels more confident. “What do you think about that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just looks at Flippy, utterly bewildered, before disappearing between one blink and the next. Flippy glances down, surprised to see that he’s holding his own shirt and wrist. That...is weird. But he’s sure it’s fine. In fact, he’s completely confident that it’s fine! After all, he’s gotten over the worst parts now, for certain.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sexualizes the church but in a furry way</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>starts a second htf fic before im done with the first because i fear no god or mortal</p></blockquote></div></div>
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